


Anbar and naphtha

by Bitterblue



Series: Experimental Theology [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Orphan Black AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitterblue/pseuds/Bitterblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU set in Lyra's world, expanded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anbar and naphtha

The flickering of the anbaric lights after dinner seemed to make Delphine nervous, leaning in close to Cosima as they walked from the dining hall back to the residences. It had been a pleasant surprise to learn the long-empty rooms at the end of the hall, next to Cosima's own, would be filled with this woman and her dog-daemon. Now, walking so close as to be nearly touching, she could think of little else than  _Delphine, close, good_ _._  Prosper shot her an amused look and swiped at the air beside the dog's ear, inviting a game of chase which Laurent gladly joined.

Delphine stumbled on a loose paving stone, her hands reaching to right her balance, one grasping Cosima's arm. Her hip pressed into Cosima's side. The weight of the alethiometer hit her in the thigh again. She had forgotten about it, wrapped up in conversation over the meal, and in the contemplative silence after.

"Pardonne," Delphine said, at the same time as Cosima said, "Whoa, are you alright?" They both paused, smiled at each other. Cosima felt more than heard Laurent catch Prospero by the tail. Delphine's smile broadened a little, and she stepped back.

Silence settled again as Cosima opened the door to the residence building, this lit with well-tended naphtha lamps. She might have watched Delphine relax, but it was brighter indoors and she could think of no compelling reason to follow the impulse through.

She paused at her door, watching Delphine move to the next a few yards down the hall. "Goodnight."

"Bonsoir, Cosima. I will see you tomorrow?"

"I promised you the laboratories. I won't forget." She stepped inside, mindful of Prospero, then leaned back against the heavy wood of the closed door.

"I think I like Laurent," he said as he jumped onto the bed.

Cosima snorted a laugh, pressing her hands to her face. "You like everyone."

"That isn't true. I couldn't stand that guest lecturer in atomcraft's daemon. Horrible woman, horrible little ferret of a daemon."

"I think he was an ermine, you know," she said, pushing away from the door and slowly changing into her nightclothes.

Prospero did his best cat shrug. "You like her and this is going to end exactly the same way it did with Beth: tears and hurt feelings and her storming out of your life. I've warned you."

"I will remind you that it was you who brought up liking." Cosima slid into her dressing gown and fished the alethiometer out of her coat pocket. Sitting on the bed next to him, she unwrapped it and stared for long minutes.

"Are you going to try to use it again? Shouldn't we be putting it back?"

The light caught on the worn engravings around the edge of the case, a softer glint than the sunlight earlier. It was surprisingly heavy, though she hadn't ever owned a pocket watch to know if this was purely the mechanics of the thing or if the weight of Dust had somehow immersed itself, been given physical form, in this little bauble of metal and glass. Cosima turned it over and over in her hands, and then sighed, flicking open the lid. She had spent ages preparing her question for the stolen moment earlier in the afternoon, quick peeks in the Professor's books when she could get them giving her a shaky grasp of the semiotics of the thing. If she asked the same question, would she just get the same answer? Probably. Best to try something new.

She could not have said how long she sat, staring into the dial. The impossibly tiny paintings caught and held her, until she almost felt like when she used the occhiolinos, as if she could see into details too small for her eyes to normally conceive. She set the hands: Anchor, tree madonna.

It was the shortest eternity before the final hand swung erratically around the dial before settling into a rhythm, tapping out the sign Cosima could feel slipping away from her grasp the harder she tried to follow. She wasn't even sure she was asking the right question, but here was an answer: Serpent. Serpent. Serpent. Serpent. She waited for the symbol to change, for a pattern to emerge, but it kept looping back again and again to the glittering, tiny snake.


End file.
